


Personal Best

by Fire_Sign



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9153214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/pseuds/Fire_Sign
Summary: When Jack discovers Phryne enjoys multiple orgasms, the game is on.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My weird half-asleep brain turned a prompt from PromisesArePieCrust into a... thing. And so I tried to con people into writing it for me, and got "Push your boundaries" in response. But hey, this is the first time I've used the E rating? Go me?

There were many, many good things to be said about finally having Jack Robinson in her bed. Since her return to Melbourne nearly a week before it felt like they had hardly left it outside of working hours, too engrossed in exploring their newly-consummated partnership. An exploration that was going particularly well, even if--

“Phryne?”

She looked up at him, sweat beginning to form on his brow, and smiled.

“You were a million miles away, love,” he said, still stroking in and out of her slowly.

“Mmm, I was thinking.”

“Sounds dangerous,” he smirked.

It was an odd time for an orgasm to overtake her, nothing particular about it but the downturned smile on his lips, but overtake her it did--she mewled and arched and ground her pelvis against his to draw out her pleasure. When the tension in her muscles abated, he pulled away, grasping his cock and fisting it. 

Phryne laid her hand over his, stilling the movement.

“Jack? Are you…?”

She wasn’t entirely certain what she was asking, really, just the odd observation that for his many skills in bed--and he had many--there was the oddest feeling that he saw the act done when she’d reached climax. Which was all well and good, and he was incredibly adept at drawing it out, keeping her on the precipice but never over until the last possible moment and going over with her, her orgasm all the stronger for it, but in this case…

“I’m just taking care of--”

Phryne scooted to sit up, facing him.

“There is no need for you to ‘take care’ of it like it’s a nuisance, Jack. I hope I haven’t given you that impression?”

“No! No, Phryne, I--never.”

“Then why?” she asked softly. 

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Rosie found it… uncomfortable… to continue after…”

“Ahh,” said Phryne, understanding dawning. “Some women do, or cannot be aroused a second time. A friend of mine could not reach orgasm even with medical assistance. Sounded terribly unfortunate to me, but she was of the opinion that the event was perfectly enjoyable without the big finale and she could not miss what she had never had. I’m one of the fortunate ones who climaxes easily and repeatedly--”

He actually swallowed hard at that. “Repeatedly?”

“Oh yes. It’s a wonderful stroke of luck,” she said lightly, then noticed his expression; there was curiosity, but also a hint of embarrassment it took her a moment to realise the source of. “And is _not_ a requirement of every encounter, so I highly recommend you forget that little voice in the back of your head wondering if you’ve made some horrible misstep drawing events out. If I was unsatisfied, I would be quite happy to say so and make recommendations for remedying the situation.”

He laughed at that ,and Phryne leant forward to capture his lips for a long, deep kiss. 

“Now,” she said when it was done, dropping one hand into his lap, “shall we get back to the matter at hand?”

She stroked him playfully, but despite the twitching of his cock in her hand he didn’t seem to respond.

“Jack?”

He startled, looking at her.

“Now you’re the one a million miles away,” she said fondly.

“I suppose I am,” he agreed. 

“Care to tell me why?”

He hesitated for a moment, then gained the confident demeanour that had drawn her to him in the first place.

“I was just wondering, Miss Fisher, about your personal best?”

“My personal…?” she trailed off, then laughed. “Climaxes?”

“Yes.”

“I’m hardly keeping a scorecard, Jack.”

“Guess then.”

“Why?”

He trailed his fingers from her wrist to her shoulder, across her clavicles, a gentle touch that burnt her skin and left her desperate for more.

“Because, Miss Fisher, I have just had a whole world of opportunities open up to me, and what better way to start than by beating the previous record?”

His eyes were dark and serious, and Phryne realised he meant it.

“Are you sure you’re up for the challenge?” she asked, eyebrow raised playfully.

“I am a very conscientious lover,” replied Jack, lips twitching. 

“Very well then. Four. I think. That was a rather blurry night by the end of things.”

“Four,” he said, musing it over.

“I hope that’s not too challenging for you, inspector?”

“Merely trying to narrow my options down.”

“Tease.”

“I have had a very long time to contemplate things,” he said, his voice hoarse with promise. “The last week has not even begun to plumb the depths of my imaginings.”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll come without you having to do anything at all.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” he said, sliding off the bed. “Stay here, I’ll be back in a moment.”

Phryne watched him adjourn to her en suite bathroom--and if she thought she had a good idea how attractive he was with his clothes on, it had still not prepared her for what he looked like with them off--then heard the water begin to run in the tub. Leaving the tap on, Jack came to the bed and took Phryne’s hand, leading her into the bathroom; he’d used lavender salts in the bath, the scent filling the small space. While he waited for the tub to fill he pressed her against the wall, kissing her slowly. She stroked his cock, and he moaned against her mouth.

“Careful,” he said, chuckling, “I have plans for that later.”

Then he stepped away to turn off the water, and she missed the weight of him against her. Climbing into the tub, he parted his legs and motioned for her to join him; she did, coming to rest her her back against his chest and the water lapping over them both.

“Ohh,” she breathed, “this is lovely.”

His hands were resting on her thighs, but he drifted them upwards to cup her breasts while his mouth explored the length of her neck and shoulder.

“I want to make you come,” he murmured, his hands and his lips both so soft she melted into the sensation. “I want to drive you out of your mind with desire.”

“You do.”

“I want to touch every part of you that makes you whimper and squirm and writhe,” he said, his hand barely brushing against her nipple. 

She reached behind her, catching the back of his neck, and twisted so she could reach his lips, her tongue frantically gaining entry into his mouth. Desire was building, just from his hands on her breasts and his mouth against hers and the delicious, dark voice promising her pleasure, and she shifted restlessly, thighs clenching.

He broke their kiss, smiling when she whined in protest.

“Lie back,” he said, one hand moving to cup water over the parts of her that were not submerged, warming her skin. 

“Jack…”

“I know obedience is not your forte,” he said, “but keep that up and the only thing I’ll be able to think about is taking you hard and fast against that wall.”

“I like this plan,” she purred, trying to keep the quivering _need_ from her voice.

“Another time,” he promised in reply. “Right now…”

One hand had renewed its attentions to her breast, the other skimming down to stroke her clit; so breathless with anticipation, it took only a moment for her to break apart, the lavender-scented water sloshing over the sides of the tub as she came.

“That’s two,” she breathed when the moment had passed, and he chuckled.

They stayed in the water a few minutes longer, Jack’s soft, patient hands exploring her body until she felt a pulsing urge renew itself. Her hips rose and fell in time with his movements

“God, Jack, I want you inside me,” she said, her head dropping back to rest on his shoulder.

“The water’s getting cold,” he replied.

Phryne stood, pulling the plug, then wrapped herself in one of the enormous towels Jack had laid out. He took the other, drying off his body quickly before securing it around his hips. She ran her hand across his chest, meeting his gaze through lowered eyelashes, then stepped forward to kiss him; hands roaming to rest on his waist, she tugged him towards the wall, loosening his towel in the process. The languid kiss grew heated, his hand spearing into her hair to cup her head, the soft kiss gaining teeth and tongues; she moaned, pulling him flush against her, his cock pressed against her stomach and too high for what she wanted. His fingers found her though, long and clever and reaching beneath the hem of her towel to tease her until her legs were trembling.

There were any number of things she would expect from him in that moment, but dropping to his knees and tongue-fucking her until she saw stars, her legs over his shoulders clenching tightly, her hands gripping his hair, was not among them. Shaking now, she lowered her legs, his hands at the small of her back holding her steady and his face pressed against her stomach.

“Fuck, Phryne,” he said. “You are… exquisite.”

“Come to bed,” she said softly, hoping her legs would hold out that long; they were pleasantly but definitively wobbling. 

Hand in hand and exchanging surprisingly soft smiles, they returned to the bedroom and Phryne’s sumptuous bed. Slipping beneath the covers, she encouraged Jack to lay over her and press inside with slow, steady strokes. 

She closed her eyes, to better feel every small detail; the movement of muscles as she palmed his arse to encourage him deeper, the glide of skin against skin, the heat of his breath against her ear. So caught in that, she didn’t notice when another climax began to build, her hands and panted words encouraging him faster, deeper, more, more, more. She scraped her fingernails against his skin, needing, needing, needing, oh god she needed the focus of his fingers on her clit but she didn’t want him to move away to do it, didn’t want to lose this contact, this sensation that had begun to block out everything else, her eyes screwed tight as she strained, felt him changing the rhythm, pushed and mewled and oh she needed more.

“Phryne? Phryne, look at me,” he panted, stroking her cheek until she opened her eyes. “I’m close. What do you need?”

_Everything_ , she wanted to say, and pulled him closer instead. A twist of his hips, the press of his pelvis as he came, and she was gasping and thrashing and oh fuck fuck fuck he felt so good, this felt so good, every part of her trembling and shaking and ohh…

When it passed, Phryne was aware that Jack had slipped to lie beside her, sweating and sated and smiling just a little smugly as he caught his breath. Her limbs felt heavy, almost numbed by sheer exhaustion, and she had a primal but understandable urge to curl against him and sleep; only his large palm pressed against her stomach, just firm enough to calm her quivering insides, stopped her.

“One more?”

“I don’t know if I can,” she moaned.

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“Oh no, you have a record to beat,” laughed Phryne, unwilling to back down from any challenge. “Just… go slowly?”

He nodded, and as playful as this had begun, there was an utter solemnity to it that went straight through her heart. He leant in to kiss her, touching her nowhere but her lips and an absent-minded stroke of his thumb against her hip. It was tender and cherishing and so sweet, and Phryne draped her leg over his to press herself against his thigh, every languid pulse of her hips adding to the growing warmth in her gut, the wetness between her thighs. It was not the tension of climax filling her, but a sensation not entirely unlike a warm bubble swelling, delicate but undeterred. His fingers had dropped from her hip, down the outside of her thigh and back up the inside to stroke her labia softly. When he brushed against her entrance she gasped, and he paused.

“Too much?”

“Keep going,” she urged, biting her lip, and wondered how large the bubble could grow before it popped, whether it could engulf her entirely.

He slipped one finger inside of her, then a second, pumping them in and out until her breath caught in her throat. 

“Do you have any idea…” he began, then shook his head and kissed her instead, his fingers still moving.

“Jack,” she groaned against his mouth, “god, Jack, just--”

It wasn’t a wave or flames or a desperate thrashing of limbs when she came, but a gently spreading warmth like submerging into perfect bathwater. She laid a hand against his neck, kissing him once again.

“That’s five,” she whispered. “You, Jack Robinson, are full of surprises.”

She closed her eyes and cuddled against him.

“Am I now?” he chuckled, his hand against her back and holding her close.

“I might just keep you.”

“Oh really?”

“Really. At least until I can figure out how to return the favour.”

And if he tried to get the last word in after that, she was too tired to notice.


End file.
